


It's a Gift

by DTS



Series: Time Enough (Psych Time Travel) [1]
Category: Psych
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DTS/pseuds/DTS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange man shows up to observe Shawn while he's investigating a burglary. Over the course of the investigation, Shawn realizes the man isn't telling the full truth.</p><p>(originally posted 2010)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shawn Spencer sat back on his favorite bench on the pier and looked out at the Pacific. He had solved his previous case for the Santa Barbara Police Department a couple days ago so all was right with the world—or at least his part of it. The only thing that would make this moment any better was having a certain woman sitting next to him instead of his best friend, but it was still good.

“This is the life, eh, Gus? Relaxing in the sun, no worries of theft or murder hanging over our heads…” He took a sip of his pineapple smoothie. “Life can’t get much better.”

Burton Guster, professional worrywart and Nervous Nellie, looked up from his cell. “Don’t talk to me about relaxing. I have to reschedule all my appointments I missed today because of you. You seem to forget I have another job except when it helps you.”

“But we’re outside enjoying the fresh air. You have to admit that’s better than being stuck in an office.” Gus merely shrugged, but Shawn took it as admittance that he was right.

He let his eyes wander over everyone on the pier. From the vendors, young couples, sunburnt tourists, families with little kids, to sketch artists, everyone was there for a definite, innocent purpose. His eyes then spotted a man closing in on 40 who seemed out of place. Well, to be fair, he spotted the cool bomber jacket first. “Gus, what do you make of that?”

Gus followed his gaze. “I haven’t even finished my smoothie, why would I want ice cream?”

“No, not that, though it does sound good. The man next to it; he hasn’t moved.”

“So? Neither have we. You’re just looking for a mystery where there isn’t one.” Gus turned his attention back to his texting.

“It’s not just that, man. It’s how he’s not moving.” Shawn couldn’t really put it into words—at least ones that wouldn’t make him seem paranoid. He looked for the man again out of the corner of his eye, but he was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere along the pier.

Gus closed his cell. “There, schedule all fixed, no thanks to you. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for dinner at your dad’s?”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess we should.” Shawn stood and began walking back to the office. “I told Dad you were bringing dessert.”

“Shawn!”

He didn’t look back at Gus’s protest. Some days it was just too easy.

*

The next morning found them lounging at Psych when they received a phone call from Chief Karen “Don’t Call Me Ma’am” Vick asking them to meet her at the one of the many banks downtown.

“Dude,” Shawn looked at Gus, “I think we just got called in on a bank heist. We’re moving up.”

Gus grabbed the keys to the Echo and followed Shawn out to the parking lot. “We’ve caught an international art thief and stopped a serial killer. How is a bank heist moving up?” he asked as they got into the car.

“It’s a classic,” Shawn replied as they pulled onto the road. “You had bank heists long before the first known serial killer or art thief,” he explained as Gus drove downtown. “Plus, I like saying ‘heist’.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you want to walk into the vault?”

“Ah, you know me so well. There’s a spot.”

Gus parked the car and they made their way to the crime scene. Shawn spotted Buzz McNabb towering over everyone else.

“Hey, Shawn. Gus. The Chief told me to wait for you,” he said, lifting the yellow tape to let them through.

“What do you know, Buzz?”

“Not that much,” Buzz answered as he took them inside. “I heard they took around $250 million.”

Shawn whistled appreciatively. “Wow, that’s some haul.”

“How did the robber get in?” Gus asked the detectives.

“Burglar,” Shawn corrected. “It happened at night when the bank was closed so it was technically burglary.”

The others looked at him, surprised. He merely shrugged.

“Employee entrance, back door,” stated Chief Vick as they reached the vault. “We’re hoping you can bring this to a quick conclusion.”

“It’s an inside job, Chief,” stated Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, or, as he was known to his nowhere-near-close friends (mainly Shawn), “Lassie”.

“An inside job wouldn’t explain the other bank robberies in the area,” argued Junior Detective Juliet O’Hara, the bright, chirpy, Bluebird of Happiness of the Santa Barbara Police Department.

“As you can see, Mr. Spencer, your help would give us a clear path to follow.”

“I would be more than happy to help, Chief.” Shawn put his hands to his head, resting the fingertips on either side, and walked the room pretending to “read” the signs from the spirits. He mimed the burglar going from one deposit box to another, stopping only at certain ones. “Ooh, shiny,” he commented. “Glitters.”

He heard a sigh of exasperation and knew Lassie was rolling his eyes. “But it wasn’t just jewels, no. I’m seeing very detailed and embossed paper. Dalton, Lazenby, Craig.” Shawn faced Gus, hoping he would notice the hint. “Connery.”

“Bonds,” declared Jules. “They all played James Bond.”

“We could have easily found out what was taken,” Lassiter pointed out. “You’re here to tell us who.”

“I can’t do everything for you, Lassie, but I am getting three distinct things. One, whoever it was turned off the alarm when they came in. Two, there are scratch marks only by the customer locks which means they had a master key. Three, they knew which boxes had the good stuff.”

“Which supports my inside job theory.” Carlton sounded smug.

“It would seem so.”

“But, Chief--” O’Hara began to protest.

“Wait!” He closed both eyes.

“What is it, Shawn?” Gus asked, playing his part.

“I’m not sure. It’s like the spirits want to say something else but it’s not clear.”

“Someone jamming your signal, Spencer?” scoffed Lassiter.

Shawn opened one eye, glared at the head detective, and then closed it again. “It’s more like they’re confused as to what happened, arguing amongst themselves. Just because it looks that way doesn’t necessarily mean an employee was responsible.” He opened his eyes. “Sorry, but that’s all I’m getting.”

“We’ll keep an open mind regarding the evidence,” said Vick. “Won’t we, Carlton?”

“Fine, but I want acknowledgement when I’m proved right.”

“And if he’s wrong?” Gus whispered to Shawn as they followed the police from the vault.

“Simple. He’ll deny it.”

As the police began their preliminary interviews of the employees, Vick walked with them to the door. “Thank you for your input, Mr. Spencer. We’ll call you if we need you down at the station. If you have any further visions— Are you listening, Mr. Spencer?”

On the opposite sidewalk in the crowd watching it all unfold; Shawn spotted the same man from yesterday. “Gus, he’s there again.”

“Shawn, you are not being followed.”

“You think you’re being followed, Mr. Spencer?”

“Yesterday on the pier and now,” Gus told her.

“That’s nothing to worry over,” said the Chief. “Both are random public places. If you see him outside the office or your apartment, then you tell me.”

“Thanks, Chief.” Shawn opened the door and headed back to the car. “C’mon, Gus. We’re gonna make it so hard for him to follow.”

“Great.”

*

Close to three hours later, the blue Echo pulled into the parking lot at Psych. “You are lucky I cleared my schedule today,” Gus stated.

“Those errands needed to be done,” Shawn protested.

“You just happened to choose to do them the day you had a supposed stalker.”

“It worked.” Shawn unlocked the front door.

“Shawn, you are not being followed.”

Shawn stopped, eyes on his desk. “Dude, you’re right. I’m not being followed. He’s already here.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alan Kelly, colonel in the Temporal Observer Corps, sat in the chair behind Shawn Spencer’s desk. He was surprised that one of the best minds in criminology had such a sloppy workplace. He had learned that your heroes never quite lived up to how you pictured them. He had read all he could on the pseudo psychic and was impressed that he had kept the secret for as long as he did. Now here they were, early in their career.

Alan smiled. “Believe me, if I didn’t want you to see me, you wouldn’t have.” He saw Gus’ had reaching for his mobile. “No need to call the police. I’m not here to cause any harm. I’m actually here as an observer.”

“Where are your credentials?” Gus demanded.

Alan reached into his pocket and pulled out the slim leather wallet. “Does that satisfy you?”

“Alan Kelly, California Association of Licensed Investigators,” he read. “Of course, Shawn, being psychic, has no need for a license.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Alan said. “But if you follow proper methods, then you can be accredited.”

“I will have you know that Gus’ score is a little iffy at the moment,” Shawn said.

“We’re not applying for a credit card, Shawn. ‘Accredited’ means recognized or authorized.”

“I know what it means,” Shawn replied in a tone that made Alan wonder. “You certainly timed your visit well,” Shawn told him. “We just got a case today.”

“The bank. I saw you there. That’s why I came here.”

“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” said Gus.

“Not too long. So, what did you glean from the crime scene?”

Shawn exchanged a glance with Gus.

“I’m not going to muscle in on your case. You go to outside sources to bounce ideas off of, right? Think of me as a subcontractor.”

“The consultant’s consultant?” Shawn was amused. “You psychic, too?” he asked jokingly.

“To a degree.” 

Shawn stopped smiling.

“I don’t commune with the dead but I do have some telepathic abilities.”

“Really?” Gus was impressed—too impressed for a man who supposedly worked with a psychic.

“Okay, pick a number between 1 and 100.” Alan gave them a few moments. Gus had his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “Fifty,” Alan told him. Not much of a challenge. Shawn, on the other hand, couldn’t decide. “Will you pick a number already?!” Shawn glared at him but the numbers quit flashing as he settled on one. “101? Really?”

“You really can read minds. We’d make quite an act.”

“Shawn, he works for the state. Why would he want to join us?”

“He doesn’t work for the state any more than I do. That ID was fake.”

“I should have realized it wouldn’t work on you.” Alan saw Gus reach for the phone. “I really would like to observe your methods. I want to know how you’ve convinced the police you’re real.”

“What makes you think that I’m not?”

“Gus’ reaction to me, mainly, but I’ve read up on you.” He leaned back in the chair. “I know your secret and you know mine. What now?”

“It seems, gentlemen, we’re at checkmate.”

“That’s stalemate, Shawn.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

*

Not long after their stalemate in the Psych office, the phone had rung. The police had wanted Shawn to come “read” some of the employees they were questioning.

Now sitting in the backseat of Gus’ company car, Alan couldn’t help but smile at the opportunity to watch the full crew in action. “What cover should I use?” he asked them.

“You have more than one fake ID?” Shawn asked. “That’s so cool.”

“It does come in handy.”

“I think a state or federal ID would impress them but you’d need a reason why you’re with us,” stated Gus, keeping his eyes on the road. “Stuff like that usually goes through proper channels.”

“Why don’t you use the same one? Lassie will wonder why it took so long for someone to investigate me.”

“Lassie?”

“Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective. He’s been on Shawn’s case since Day One.”

“He’s a good detective but doesn’t go outside the box. He also has a bit of an obsession with firearms.” Shawn turned his head to look at Alan. “You good with guns?”

“I’ve been known to put up some good marks, yeah.”

“Good, because he’ll probably be your toughest opponent.”

“Okay, who else?”

“The Chief. She needs to follow the law, but knows how to bend it. I know she’s made a few allowances for me.”

“Anyone else?” Alan asked as if he didn’t know.

“Detective Juliet O’Hara. A good detective who follows her hunches.”

Alan was surprised that Shawn didn’t say more. “Okay, I think I know which way to go.” They pulled into the SBPD parking lot. “Just introduce me then follow my lead.”


	3. Chapter 3

Shawn followed the mysterious Alan Kelly into the police station. As he was the one who usually burst into the station, it was rather strange to see someone else do it.

Kelly strode through, barely saying a word, yet Shawn saw all eyes follow him. The man’s whole attitude changed and he became an officer inspecting the troops. Maybe he’s like a spy or something which is why he has so many IDs.

The Chief met them flanked by Jules and Lassie. “Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, so glad you could join us.” She looked at Alan, waiting for an introduction.

“Sorry, Chief. This is my stalker—“

“Col. Alan Kelly.” He held out the same ID wallet and spoke in a British accent. “I’ve come to observe Mr. Spencer.”

“Did you know about that accent?” Gus whispered to him.

“No, but it’s cool.”

“I’ve never heard of this organization,” said the Chief as she eyed Alan suspiciously.

“Very few know of our existence and even less know what we do. It’s better that way.”

“And why are you observing Spencer?” Lassie wanted to know.

“Possible recruitment. We find that those with a more flexible attitude and outlook fare better.”

“And how did you find out about Shawn?” asked Jules.

“We scan all media looking for stories and people out of the ordinary. Shawn’s record was impressive and I was nominated to be the one to test the waters, as it were.”

“We met and talked at the Psych office and I thought it would be okay if he sat in on the case,” Shawn put in, hoping to sway the Chief’s mind.

“I will not interfere with your case or voice my opinions unless asked.”

Shawn could see the women weakening. I have to ask him for lessons on that English accent. Girls always fall for a guy with an accent. Lassie, on the other hand, was still holding out. Shawn couldn’t figure out why as he thought the detective would be happy to see the back of him.

“Very well, Colonel, you may observe Mr. Spencer during this case,” Vick agreed. “However, at the first sign of interference, you will be banned from this station and any scene involved in this case, no matter your security clearance. Am I clear?”

“Message received and understood, ma’am.”

The Chief opened her mouth to admonish him for calling her that but closed it and let it pass. It has to be the accent.

*

Shawn stood against the wall as Lassiter questioned Neil Corman, mid-twenties and newly-promoted to middle management, a position that gave him a key to the door and the alarm code. A quick look at his wrinkled clothes told Shawn that the man lived alone and either didn’t know how to iron or didn’t care.

Neil answered Lassie’s questions with the nervousness of a man afraid of loosing his position, not of guilt. He kept rubbing his hair and Shawn saw little pieces fall to his shoulders.

[Shawn, ask him if he’s met somebody new. A guy like that could easily fall prey to a seduction.]

Shawn looked at the mirror. How the hell does he do that?

[It’s a gift. Now ask.]

Shawn put a hand to his head, acting out a vision. “I see a party at a bar. Your friends took you out to celebrate your promotion. While they’re on the dance floor, you stay at the table nursing your drink. Then someone joins you, saying you look lonely. You slowly begin to talk, finding out you have the same interests. You even exchange phone numbers and plan to meet up again. Which you did.”

“Wow, you’re good.” Neil was astounded. “That’s exactly how it happened.” He looked at Lassiter. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with her for a week, but her phone’s out-of-service.”

“Did you and…”

“Janine.”

Lassiter jotted the name down. “Did the two of you sleep together?”

“What?” Neil was flustered. “That’s personal.”

“Look, I can have you for obstructing a police investigation so just answer the question.”

Gus stepped forward. “Neil, you’ll need to excuse Det. Lassiter’s temper. He’s been at this all day and you have the first real lead. There’s a chance that Janine used you just to get the alarm codes. Unless you did something illegal, this won’t reflect badly on you.”

Shawn caught Gus’s eye and nodded. He then looked at Neil and knew the man was torn. Should he be chivalrous and defend the woman or get even for her using him. Getting even won.

“Yeah, we did. That was the last time I saw her. She was gone when I woke up.”

“Did you ever go to her place?” Lassiter asked.

“No. We usually met at our destination. Sometimes she’d just come over to my place and we’d watch movies or the ballgame.”

“Do you have anything of hers at your place?” Shawn asked. “I might be able to pick up something about her by touching it.”

“Not until we’ve dusted, you won’t. I think we should send someone to his apartment in case she comes back for something.” He said it like it was his own decision but Shawn knew it was directed at the Chief. “Mr. Corman, we’ll need you to put together a picture of Janine for us.”

“Wait, I might…” Neil pulled out his phone and pulled up a photo of himself and a cute redhead. “I should’ve realized it was too good.”

Shawn walked closer and peered over Lassie’s shoulder. She did seem a little out of Neil’s league, the kind of girl that never would have given him a glance under normal circumstances. She had deep auburn hair just past her shoulders in that careless windblown style. Her eyes were hazel and she had a light sprinkling of freckles across her face. Definitely very cute—for a burglar.

“When it comes to pretty women, no man thinks straight,” said Lassie, somewhat sympathetic. He stood. “Now we need to get this to the tech lab. We can get them to trace some of the numbers.”

“Whatever you need.”

Lassiter opened the door. “McNab, take Mr. Corman to the tech lab.”

“Yes, sir.” McNab led the man away.

Shawn and Gus joined him in the hall. “Very impressive, Lassie. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you could relate to the experience.”

“I may not have the best record when it comes to women, but at least I haven’t been used to commit a felony.” He stormed up the stairs.

“Boy, try to be nice…”

“Mr. Spencer.” Shawn turned to the Chief. “Nice work in there. We can run the phone numbers and photo. In the meantime, I want you over at Mr. Corman’s apartment to see what you can sense.”

“Sure thing, Chief. Care to ride along, Jules?”

Shawn caught the glance she shot at Alan. “As tempting as that invitation is, Shawn, I need to stay here and re-question all the employees with access to the safe deposit vault. They might have had new relationships too.”

“Your loss.” Shawn walked upstairs to the lobby. He heard the Chief say something to Gus, most likely about being cautious not to contaminate the crime scene and a host of other things that would only impede his process. He needed to impress Alan and be seen worthy of this overseas job. _Top secret organization, Shawn Spencer, Double-0 Psychic._ He smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

“So that’s who you work with.” Alan was in the front passenger seat at Gus’s insistence. “Lassiter seems the only one adverse to your ‘abilities’.”

“He’d throw an I-Told-You-So Party if he ever got the proof,” Gus said. “I keep telling Shawn he has to be careful but he doesn’t listen.”

“Sometimes poking a sleeping lion is so tempting,” Shawn commented from the backseat.

“You’d better have a long stick. If you do it enough times, the lion is bound to wake.”

Shawn leaned forward between the seats. “You know you can drop the accent now. There’s no need to stay in character when it’s just us.”

“This is my real voice, Shawn. I thought meeting a mysterious British man in your office was too cloak and dagger.”

“Well, it was a House-worthy performance ‘cause I didn’t even suspect.”

“And you’re good with accents?”

“Good? I’m known for my accents.”

“Known for doing them poorly,” Gus scoffed. “Remember Chad?”

“Gus, don’t be a piece of lint on the hard candy of life.”

“Chad?” Alan had to know the story.

“He had to go undercover on a Spanish soap and it was atrocious.”

“I don’t think ‘atrocious’ is the word you’re looking for,” Shawn commented.

“Oh, it’s the one I wanted.”

They pulled onto the street where Corman lived and Gus pulled in behind the patrol car. “Looks like we beat Lassie. C’mon.” Shawn reached for the door.

“Wait, if you go in there, you’ll contaminate the scene,” Alan warned. “Besides, you have an audience. They’ll see you and report it.”

“What do you suggest we do? Gus isn’t very good at distractions.”

“I’m good at distractions—I’m just not good at lying.”

“Which is the main component of distraction.”

“Are you done? Geez, the stories do not do you justice. What you need is a reason to be there. Perhaps the cops over there happen to ‘see’ something and investigate. You offer your help.”

“Wow, that is good. I can sneak around the back, let them see my shadow, and then double back and join them for the fun.” Shawn reached for the door again.

“No. I can do it quicker and quieter.” With a thought, Alan teleported to the yard surrounding Corman’s building and made sure the officers in the patrol car saw him. Done, he then teleported back to the car where Gus and Shawn just stared open-mouthed.

“How did you do that?” Gus questioned.

“It’s a gift.”

“C’mon, they’re moving.” Shawn got out of the car and headed across the street.

Alan looked at Gus. “Keep schtum. I don’t want this getting out.”

“Not a problem. I’ve kept Shawn’s secret for three years.”

“Good. Let’s get after him before he ruins this plan.”

Alan and Gus rushed across the street and found Shawn as he watched the two officers.

“Did you two get lost crossing the street?”

Gus ignored Shawn with all the practice of a lifelong friend. “What happened?” he asked the officers.

“We spotted a possible intruder and called it in before coming to investigate,” one of them answered.

“Well, as the Chief sent us over, we could help you look,” said Shawn as he tried to act innocent.

“The Chief said no one was to go near the apartment until Det. Lassiter got here,” replied the second. “Especially you.”

“It’s nice to be singled out.”

“What in the name of sweet justice is going on here?” Lassiter demanded in a whisper that verged on a shout.

“We spotted an intruder, sir.”

“So you thought you’d have a little coffee klatch to discover it? Did it ever occur to you, McNeill, that the perp could use this to his advantage? You and Ortiz do a quick perimeter check then get back to the car and watch in case someone comes while we’re up there.”

“Yes, sir.” McNeill and Ortiz left.

Lassiter glared at the three of them. “You couldn’t stay put until I got here, could you? You could have ruined crucial evidence.”

“We only crossed the street after Ortiz and McNeill,” Shawn said in defense. “I thought we could help.”

“The Chief seems to think so. Inside. And don’t touch anything without gloves!”


	5. Chapter 5

Shawn stretched out dejectedly in the back seat. There had been nothing feminine in Corman’s apartment at all. And as it had been so long since the mysterious Janine had used a glass or utensil, they’d all been cleaned. All-in-all, a wasted trip.

“Lassiter is gonna be in an even worse mood now,” said Gus.

“You mean he can be worse?” Alan asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been trying to teach him to loosen up a bit more, but it’s not working,” Shawn stated.

“Not a good student?”

“He’s better than Shawn was a most subjects.”

“C’mon, when am I going to need to know about two trains meeting?” He was saved from Gus’s know-it-all answer when his phone rang. “Hey, Jules! We’re on our way back. The whole thing was a waste of time.”

“I know. Carlton told me.”

“You already spoke with Lassie?”

“He’s my partner, Shawn. I had to tell him what I learned first.”

“So what did you learn?”

“The other manager is Christina Rogers and she was approached around the same time as Corman.”

“Nice work, Jules. You got a name?”

“Anne Wright.”

Shawn’s imagination began to conjure pictures.

“Shawn?”

“Sorry, Jules. I was…”

“Don’t try to explain.” She sounded a little exasperated.

“We’re on our way in. We can stop for Chinese on the way.”

“No, that’s all right. There’s nothing for you to do here right now, so you might as well call it a night.”

“’Kay. You call if you need anything.”

“Bye, Shawn.”

“Bye, Jules.” He ended the call. “That was Jules.”

“Never would have guessed,” said Gus. “You only said her name four times.”

”What news?” asked Alan.

Shawn relayed what Jules had told him. “I was thinking it was just a man and woman, but this puts a new spin on it.”

“It’s getting late. We’d better get you back to your hotel,” Gus told Alan.

“I don’t have one.”

“Where did you stay last night?”

“I made arrangements.”

“Well, I know where there’s a bed you can have for the night, free of charge.”

“What’s the catch, Shawn?”

“You’ll have to put up with my dad.”

*

The house was dark when they pulled up. “If I timed this right, we should have a couple hours before he gets back. Once we get you inside and settled, it’ll be hard for him to kick you out.”

“If your father’s first inclination is to chuck me out, why did you bring me here?”

“Because neither one of us has the room.” He unlocked the kitchen door and still couldn’t believe how neat his dad kept this place. He went straight to the fridge and grabbed some beers. “He doesn’t even have any decent leftovers.” He closed the door and reached for his phone. “How about Indian?”

“I haven’t any since that night at Raj’s,” Gus told him.

“Thai?”

“I bet you have the number of every takeaway on speed dial,” commented Alan.

“All the good ones.”

“Move over.” Alan opened the fridge and pulled out some chicken breasts, ketchup and yogurt before moving on to raid the spices and produce. “We’ve all the makings of a quick, nutritious dinner.”

Together they prepared the dinner and then Alan put it in the microwave. It beeped just as Shawn heard his dad pull into the driveway. “Okay, let me do the talking. Dad can be a bit of a bear at the best of times.”

Just to prove his point, the senior Spencer entered already complaining. “Shawn, I am not cooking for your--” He stopped when he saw them at the table. “What’s this?”

“Curried chicken,” answered Alan as he served up a fourth plate. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Spencer. I’ll be glad to reimburse you for the groceries.”

It wasn’t that often that Shawn saw his father stunned at something he didn’t do. “Who are you?” he finally said as he took the plate and sat down.

“Col. Alan Kelly.”

“Your new houseguest,” Shawn added as his father took the first bite. “He’s here to observe me for a potential job opportunity.”

Henry looked at Alan. “You want Shawn?” Alan nodded. “I guess you could do worse.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Shawn watched his father eat with gusto. “I take it he can stay?”

“It depends.” Henry looked at Alan. “What do you do for breakfast?”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Alan was in Henry Spencer’s kitchen making breakfast of Eggs Benedict and fresh cut fruit along with coffee and a variety of juices. Plates, cutlery, glasses, mugs and napkins were set on the counter buffet-style. Cream and sugar were by the coffeemaker.

“What a spread,” commented Henry as he entered the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower. “You know I was kidding last night.”

“Yeah, but I believe Shawn took it as real and he won’t be alone.”

“Yeah, Gus will be right behind him as usual.” Henry poured himself a glass of orange juice.

“It won’t be just Shawn and Gus.”

“Oh, please! Don’t tell me you’re ‘psychic’ too?”

[You tell me, Henry.] Alan smiled at Henry’s stunned face.

“Hey, Dad, Alan.” Shawn and Gus breezed into the kitchen. Shawn picked up a piece of pineapple and popped it into his mouth. “Did you just show him the whole telepathy thing?”

Alan grinned.

“Thought so. I got a call from Jules this morning and I might have mentioned breakfast.”

“Already taken into account. Help yourselves to coffee and fruit. I won’t start the eggs until Juliet and Lassiter get here.”

“Wow, you really outdid yourself,” said Gus appreciatively.

“A regular domestic god,” commented Shawn around a mouthful of fruit.

“C’mon, Shawn, I don’t have to tell you that ladies like it when you cook.”

“’Course not.”

Gus scoffed. “You’re kitchen cabinets are practically empty.”

“Telepathy?” Henry still hadn’t come to terms with what he had experienced.

“There are people with genuine abilities out there. Yes, the majority are charlatans but you have to keep an open mind.”

“Open mind, good one.”

Henry glared at his son.”

Alan heard the car door slam. “Okay, they’re here. He began the eggs on one burner and the bacon on another. Henry manned the toaster.

“Hello,” called Juliet from the front door.

“Oh, just go in,” Lassiter growled.

They made their way to the kitchen. “Wow, I am impressed, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Juliet. And call me Alan. I don’t like using rank unless I have to.”

Breakfast done, Alan sat down and looked pointedly at Shawn so he’d start the conversation. This meal had a purpose.

“What else have you learned about our mystery ladies?”

“The phone numbers belong to prepaid phones so no way to trace them,” Lassiter said around a mouthful.

“We are circulating their photos in the hope someone will recognize them,” Juliet added.

“So nothing so far.”

“I’d like to see you do better, Guster.”

“When doing a crossword puzzle, if I get stuck on the across clues, I go to the down ones to fill in some of the blanks.”

Lassiter stared at him. “I’ll call you when I’m doing the _New York Times_ Sunday crossword.”

Gus smiled. “We go at this from a different angle.”

“Instead of following the takers, we follow the taken.”

“I’ve got the files from similar cases, but was concentrating on the burglars,” Juliet said. “If we can come up with a connection between the stolen items, we should be able to narrow down their next target.”

“If you can, see if any of the managers started dating someone new. It could give you an idea of how many are involved.”

Lassiter looked at the retired cop. “Good point,” he admitted.

“Okay, let’s go!” declared Shawn.

[After we help your dad clean up,] Alan told him.

“But first we’ll help Dad clean up breakfast.”

Henry looked at him, stunned. “No, you guys go ahead. I’ve got it.”

“If you’re sure.” Gus knew it would be good manners to help.

“Go on. Hurry before Shawn starts honking the horn.”

“Thanks, Henry,” said Alan as he followed Gus. “That was a good idea of yours.”

“So was yours.”

Alan was still smiling as he got into the Echo’s back seat.

*

The five of them were in the station’s conference room going through the files of similar thefts. Technically, the four of them went through the files while Shawn alternated between slurping his smoothie and throwing out the odd comment.

“Whoever was behind this knew what items to take,” declared Lassiter. “Everything can easily be turned into cash.”

“But why would anyone need this much money?” asked Gus.

“Maybe it’s not about the money, but the challenge,” said Shawn. “An adrenalin junkie.”

“You can ask when we catch him,” said Lassiter. “Right now we need to look at past files to try and figure out the next target. If you’re just going to rattle on, then just get out!”

The door to the conference room opened. “I need you to investigate a body found in a downtown apartment.”

“As much as I’d like to investigate a dead body, Chief, we actually seem to be making some headway here,” Lassiter told her.

“Oh, you’ll want to see this one, Detective. Based on the call from the officer on the scene, the victim could be one of our suspects.”


	7. Chapter 7

Shawn was getting used to Alan joining them in the Psychmobile. It was still a little weird that the man could pop into his mind any time he wanted. He closed his eyes and tried to think very dull thoughts.

“Do you think it’s one of the women?” Gus asked.

“It’s a strong possibility,” answered Alan. “We could be getting close to the mastermind.”

“Good point. The other investigators didn’t make the connection we did,” Shawn added from the back seat.

“You’re saying that some guy hires people to go out with managers in order to get information on how to break in?”

“Exactly, Gus. He probably pays them enough to move on or to keep quiet.”

“But we’ve got their photos circulating,” Gus said, catching on. “He was afraid they’d crack so he killed one of them.”

“Of course this is all supposition,” said Alan. “You need to give the police a bit more to go on.”

“They’ve worked with less.”

“Hey, Alan, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, Shawn.”

“When I have a ‘vision’, please try to act fascinated or interested.”

“To do otherwise would blow my cover.”

“Well, as long as you don’t blow mine.” He looked out the window and saw a couple of patrol cars. “I think we’re here.”

Gus parked the car behind Lassiter’s and they all stepped out and jogged to the apartment building entrance.

“I hope there’s no blood,” Shawn heard Gus mutter.

“He’s never been able to handle blood,” Shawn informed Alan as the officers recognized him and let them pass.

“That makes you very courageous,” said Alan. “Doing what you do when you can’t stand the sight.”

“I’m getting better.”

“Now he can make it four minutes before tossing his cookies.”

They followed the sound of police voices to a second floor apartment. For once, they didn’t have to sneak onto the site without Lassiter knowing. Shawn was assaulted by the smell of blood the moment he crossed the threshold. He was surprised the Super Smeller even made it this far.

Anne Wright was lying facedown in the living room, gunshot wound to the head.

“Execution style,” stated Lassiter.

“But what connection could she have to the mob?” asked Jules.

The notations from all the interviews flashed through Shawn’s mind. “The bonds belonged to Enzo Jacaruso.”

“’Jackknife’? That Jacaruso?” Gus gulped.

“Local crime boss?” Alan asked.

“No one’s been able to pin anything on him,” replied Lassiter. “The DA’s office has been trying to get him for ages. If we can link this to him…”

Shawn knew that Lassie was looking for that one case, the one that would make him a legend. This case just might be the one.

“It would make sense,” Jules was saying. “He needed to make her an example. He probably already has the bonds, why else would he kill her?”

“The only other explanation is that she gave up her friend Janine,” said Shawn. “We have to find her before she follows Anne.” They all stared at him. “Okay, no pressure.”


	8. Chapter 8

"Shawn, what is it?” Alan asked.

“I’ve got a theory about the murder.”

“Theory? You never have theories,” Gus admonished.

“OK, hunch, then. Head back to the office. We need to do a little research.”

“I thought we were going to help track down Janine.” Gus took the next turn that would take them back to the office. “You were the one who said she was in danger.”

“Let the police handle that. We’re going after a murderer.”

“And just how to you plan on doing that?”

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go back to the across clues.”

“While I appreciate your taking my advice, isn’t this just a bit--”

“Decisive?” finished Shawn.

“Rash? Ill-advised?” continued Gus.

“Idiotic?” Alan completed. “You have no proof. How can you accuse someone based on a hunch?”

“I’ve worked with less,” Shawn said.

“As you don’t actually keep reports, there’s not record of your procedure.” Which was true. Most of the information on his cases was taken from police reports and newspaper articles along with later reflections from Shawn himself.

“I’m not planning on making accusations just yet. The hunch should get us the proof or at least a reason for a search warrant.”

“Nothing illegal at all,” Gus affirmed in a tone that seemed to add this time.

Gus had barely turned into the parking space before Shawn was out and running for the office door.

“That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move since I’ve been observing,” Alan commented as Gus turned off the car and they got out.

“He must really be on to something.”

They stepped into the office to see Shawn rolling a clear Plexiglas board across the floor. “You really have one of those?”

“It helps make the mental,” Shawn tapped his head, “physical.” Shawn began scribbling on the board in marker. On one side was an outline of the thefts and the other side was what was known about the thieves (or burglars). Alan watched Shawn work, fascinated, while Gus was on his laptop, most likely doing some pharmaceutical work. He knew some back home might not find this as glamorous as, say, getting into a tavern brawl alongside Shakespeare or going up against the Red Baron, but to Alan, it was all about meeting people you read about and getting a chance to seem them as real.

The phone rang, pulling Alan from his reverie.

“Tell Jules to bring the files with her!” Shawn called to Gus.

Gus picked up the phone. “Psych Investigations, this is Burton—Hi, Juliet. Yeah, sorry about that. We’re following up on a lead. No, he won’t tell us what but he believes the files will help. Yeah, okay.” He hung up the phone. “She’s on her way.”

“What did she have to say?” Alan asked.

“She wanted to know why we didn’t join them at the department and she also has some news to share, but not over the phone.”

“I believe this information will help confirm my ‘hunch’.”

“Are you going to fill us in on that?”

“Can’t you find out, Mr. Mind Reader?”

“Yeah, I could, but I don’t like doing it without permission.”

“Then you’ll just have to wait until Jules gets here—unless you can figure it out before then.” He smiled and flopped onto the couch.

Alan was not one to turn down a challenge if there were any chance of him winning. He looked over the list; what was taken, from where they were taken, from whom they were taken, and who did the taking. They had been trying to connect the thieves to the thefts, but what if the connection was between the victims? The thieves weren’t random either. There had to be a connection there as well. That was Shawn’s hunch: he knew what connected the thieves to the thefts. He looked over at Shawn who was tossing a plastic green squeaky frog into the air. He had to be so wound up, holding this information inside.

“Shawn, will you quit that? I’m trying to concentrate!”

“Sorry, Gus. You know how much I hate waiting.”

“Your wait’s over,” said Alan as he looked out the window. “She’s just pulled up.”

“Great!” Shawn jumped up and went to greet her at the door.

“Time to show off in front of the cute girl?” Alan asked Gus.

“You got it. He’s always flirted with Juliet and he still does even though he has a girlfriend.”

Alan wracked his mind trying to remember. Right, Abigail, the one that got away in high school. “Why hasn’t Shawn mentioned her?”

“She’s away teaching in Africa.”

“Ah.” Alan wanted to pursue the line of enquiry, but Shawn returned with Juliet in tow.

“Hello, Juliet,” Gus and Alan said in near unison.

“Hi, guys.” She set the file on Shawn’s desk then spotted the board. “This is pretty detailed. I thought with the visions…”

“It helps make the mental, physical,” Gus said.

“The visions aren’t always clear, so writing them down helps,” Shawn added with a glare at Gus for stealing his line. “We’ve also added what we remembered from the files. Thanks for bringing them, by the way.”

“No problem. Have you put anything together?”

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell us what you didn’t want to say over the phone.” Alan helped her to a chair. He could feel Shawn’s eyes burning into his back. [Keep your hair on. I’m not poaching, just being polite. You can reveal your theory when we’re done.]

Juliet settled into the chair and pulled out a notepad from her purse. “We finally got the list of owners of the safe deposit boxes. The Chief had officers go over it while we were out. One name stood out: Dominic Altieri.”

“Who just happens to work for Jacaruso,” stated Gus.

“Did he say what was in the box?” Shawn asked.

“No, but he didn’t deny it was bonds when questioned. It seems to support Carlton’s execution-style murder.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Shawn agreed with a smile.

“You don’t believe it was the mob.” Juliet smiled indulgently. “Okay, just what is this theory?”

“We’ve been going at it all wrong,” Alan said before Shawn could speak. “We were trying to connect the thieves to the thefts. So we tried to see what the victims had in common and then the same for the thieves. And if our connection is the same…”

Juliet looked at Gus. “I thought you said Shawn didn’t tell you.”

“He didn’t. This is the first time I’m hearing it, too.”

“I challenged Alan to figure it out just after you called. I didn’t think he’d catch on so quickly.”

“And I did it without any psychic vibes,” Alan told him, letting Shawn know no prying was involved.

“So what’s the connection?” Juliet wanted to know.

“I have suspicions, but this is all Shawn.”

“Thank you. Now, the vision I had in the car—well, it was more of a flash, really—was of a courtroom. I couldn’t see any faces or details. I did hear a series of verdicts which were mainly ‘not guilty’ or ‘case dismissed’.”

“So you think that’s the connection?” Gus asked. “All the victims got off on their trials?”

“I do recognize some of the names,” Juliet admitted.

“Lassiter said the DA’s office has been trying to get Jacaruso for ages,” added Alan.

“Wait a second. You’re saying that someone in the DA’s office is behind this?”

“There’s always one that’s gung-ho to get the evil-doers,” said Shawn. “One that feels that justice must always be served. I have a feeling that this person had a hand in each of these cases and couldn’t stand to see them get away with it. That’s why I wanted to see the files again. I think all of our thieves had priors and got off completely or with a lesser sentence in exchange for the thefts.”

“I think it’s time we double-check some facts here.” Alan grabbed some files and passed them around.

“Already my first three files have the same name,” declared Gus. “Bradley Lynch.”

“Same here,” said Juliet. She closed the file on her lap and looked at Shawn. “To accuse someone in the DA’s office, we need more than just circumstantial evidence. We need something like DNA connecting him to the victims and thieves or to Anne Wright’s murder. We need a smoking gun.”

“Jules, are you channeling the Chief right now?” She only stared at him. “Seriously, that could have been her.”

“Juliet is right, Shawn,” said Alan. “You can’t go accusing government officials without concrete proof, especially a lawyer.”

“I’ll tell the Chief and Lassiter about this and see if we have enough for a warrant.”

“If not?” asked Gus.

“We’ll simply have to watch him, wait for a slip-up.”

Alan looked at Shawn, knowing waiting was his weak suit.


	9. Chapter 9

That night, after dropping Alan off at his dad’s, Shawn made excuses for not staying for dinner. He had to keep his mind clear so Alan wouldn’t pick up any stray thoughts.

Gus then drove him home. “You’re not planning anything stupid.”

“No, just some Chinese and a Judd Nelson marathon. I feel I’ve been neglecting him recently.” He threw in a yawn for good measure.

Gus looked at him as if he didn’t believe it. He didn’t say anything, but just shook his head as he drove off.

Shawn ordered a #5 dinner special from his favorite Szechuan place and set up the DVDs. He grabbed a beer, flopped into his favorite seat and prepared to kill a few hours.

Dinner arrived partway through _The Breakfast Club_ and was done around the same time as the movie. He then started _St Elmo’s Fire_ and listened as he got changed for the evening.

He drove the Norton into town and parked it in a location central to the bars and clubs. Janine was still a girl who liked a good time and, as it was Friday, she would still be out. If she knew her life was in danger, she might change her ways. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable using her this way, but at least he wasn’t tethering her like a goat to lure a tiger.

He found her at the fourth club and tried to act as if he was working up the nerve to talk with her. He pretended to be shy, looking away when she turned to look in his direction. It worked because she walked over to join him.

“Hey there,” she said, slipping onto the stool next to him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

“It’s not my regular scene.”

“Why don’t you join my friends and me?”

Shawn could see her nervousness as she constantly moved her fingers; tapping them on the glass or fiddling with the straw. She was smart in not wanting to be alone.

“Do I know you? You look familiar.”

Do I continue or tell the truth? “Shawn Spencer. Janine, I’m here to help you.”

“I didn’t give you my name.” She broke their intimate tête-à-tête.

“I work with the Santa Barbara Police as a psychic. You’re in terrible danger.”

“If this is a come on line, it’s pretty poor.” She tried to be light but Shawn knew he hit a nerve.

“I’m not here about the burglary. I’m here by myself because I think you can help us get the man who blackmailed you.”

“Look, I never met the guy. It was all done over the phone.”

“Then that’s how we’ll catch him.” He smiled. “You still have his number?”

“Yeah.” She took her phone out of her purse and searched the contacts. “This is it.”

“OK, now when you call, say you’re nervous with the police search, and, with Christina dead, you’re going to meet up with friends in, say, Boston.”

“Chris is dead? Oh, my God. What—“

“She was murdered.” He put a hand on her wrist. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but you needed to know how serious this is.” Shawn pushed forward, hating to mislead her. “The police believe it was a mob hit because of what you took.”

She lifted her tear-stained face. “But we only opened the boxes he told us to.”

“That’s why he hired you, so none of this would get back to him. If you call him and say what told you, then there’s a chance we can catch him.”

She swallowed and regained some of her composure. “Okay.” With trembling hands, she selected the number.

Shawn listened as Janine spoke to the killer on the other end of the line. Her sniffles and fresh sobs added to the story. This so wasn’t one of his better moments.

She ended the call. “He tried to talk me out of leaving but I told him I was already at the airport. Was that enough?”

“It was great. Now get yourself to the police station so they can protect you.”

“Thank you, Shawn!” She rushed back to her friends and he hoped one of them would take her to the station.

Shawn finished his beer and left the club to head over to Lynch’s place.

*

Shawn rested the Norton out of direct sight from Lynch’s apartment—and the undercover police car. Having the police see him would ruin everything. He’d follow Lynch, catch him with the loot from the heist—that is such a great word—and then have a vision for the police, giving Jules her smoking gun.

Twenty minutes later, Lynch came out, strolling casually to his car. Granted, if he acted as if his carefully laid plan were falling apart, that would make the police suspicious.

Shawn followed at a distance, passing the police once they had stopped outside Lynch’s office. Why would he be here this time of night? Maybe he forgot something earlier. There was something about his manner that made Shawn know this wasn’t his final stop. He rode around the block to the other, lesser-known entrance to the lot. A silver Toyota was just pulling out and Shawn saw Lynch’s face as he drove past. “Gotcha!”

He followed the Toyota to the warehouse district where they were converting the buildings into offices and apartments. There was less cover, so he pretended to be having engine trouble. It gave him a reason to be there for any amount of time. He took off his helmet and bent over the bike, hiding his face from Lynch. He watched the man’s reflection as he entered two buildings down. It seemed the ideal place as no one would associate one of the ADAs with this area of town.

Having delayed as long as he could, Shawn stood and prepared to get on the Norton, planning to go around the back of the building and sneak in. The blow to his head would remind him that plans didn’t always go they way they were supposed to.

*

Shawn came to with a pounding head and discovered he was tied to a chair placed in the middle of an open floor space. The interior renovation hadn’t even started yet. Lynch was packing the more fragile items into cloth bags. “Do you need a hand?”

“It’s nice of you to offer to help me move, but there’s no need.”

“If I had known how in need you were of interior décor, I would have brought something, but it’s really hard to find a secret lair-warming gift.” He winced as he cocked his head to the side. Concussion. He’d had enough to know.

“Ah, there’s that famous Shawn Spencer wit. I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming.”

“Yes, well, I think the spirits purposely don’t show me my own future. I guess they think I’d use it on the lottery or something. Looks like you don’t have that problem. And they say crime doesn’t pay.”

“This isn’t crime, it’s justice.”

“I know why you’re doing this, I do, but, as a lawyer, did you even think that since they got off on a technicality, you could catch them on one? C’mon, they got Capone on tax evasion.”

“This hurts them more, Shawn. Getting their wrists slapped in a white collar prison doesn’t get to them as much as sealing their prized possessions.” Lynch sealed another box.

“I gotta say, using people who pass through the system was a smart move. Telling them you’ll commute their sentence if they help you. How did you keep them from turning on you?” Janine only had a phone number. She didn’t know who it was. “You approached through phone calls. If they didn’t know it was you, they couldn’t turn you in. You told them that you had a member of the DA’s office in your debt and they would handle everything. That’s quote a scheme.”

Lynch stopped his packing. “Too bad you figured it out, Shawn. You know what happens now.”

Crap, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “Well, I guess it can’t hurt if you tell me why you killed Christina.”

“The execution-style didn’t fool you, hunh?”

“Not me, no. The police on the other hand, believed it. Why?”

“I didn’t want to, but she was getting jumpy and was going to back out of the deal. I tried to talk her out of it…”

“But shot her in the back of the head instead.”

“You’re not in a position to taunt me.”

“In this position, taunting is all I have left.”


	10. Chapter 10

Alan woke on the couch with a start. Henry walked in with from the kitchen, beer in hand. “I was getting ready to bring down a pillow and a blanket.” All humor left him. “What’s wrong?”

“Shawn’s in danger. I don’t know how, just that he is.”

Henry put down his beer and replaced it with his phone. “Gus will know where he is. Gus, is Shawn with you? He’s home? Are you sure? No, Alan’s got a feeling something’s wrong. Okay, meet you there.” He shut the phone. “He made excuses to Gus as well.”

Alan stood and followed Henry to the truck as he continued to explain.

“Shawn told him he was going to stay in and watch movies. You’d think he’d’ve learnedhis lesson.”

The ride to Shawn’s was quiet as each man was lost in his own thoughts and worries. They arrived at Shawn’s just before Gus. Henry used a key to open the door. “What? You think Shawn’s the only one to copy a key?”

They entered Shawn’s apartment and Alan couldn’t help but smile. He does live in an old dry cleaners! There were empty Chinese takeaway containers on the table alongside DVD cases. “So, he did what he said he was going to do, just not for as long as we thought.”

“I can’t believe he did this after last time,” complained Gus.

“Last time?”

“Stupid kid thought he could solve a case on his own and was shot and abducted in the process,” Henry clarified.

“Was that the armored car heist? That made for interesting reading. All of you worked well together.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to go off on his own without telling anyone.”

Alan could see Henry was worried about his son and knew he wouldn’t admit it. “There’s something I can do that might give us an idea where Shawn is, and, more importantly, how he is.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked Gus.

“Not when I’m monitored. Basically, I can project myself into Shawn’s body. It’s like being in a cab; I can see where we’re going and feel the turns, but I’m not in the driver’s seat.”

“Will you be able to speak with him?”

“Possible. I did once before but the other person was in the same room.” Alan sat on the couch. “It should only be a few minutes.” He closed his eyes, thought of Shawn and soon felt lighter, floating.

After a few moments’ disorientation, he was riding shotgun in Shawn’s mind. Shawn was tied to a chair in the center of a room with an open floor-plan and exposed brick. There wasn’t much light but he could make out another man on the other side of the room packing boxes. From what he could tell, Shawn wasn’t physically hurt except for a growing lump on his head and a possible concussion. It was when he spotted the gun that he knew they had to hurry.

[Shawn, I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re trying to find you. Hold on.]

He came back to his body and woke up on the couch feeling like he brought some of Shawn’s headache back with him.

“Where is he?”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine with the beginnings of a lovely concussion. He looks like he’s in a warehouse in the midst of conversion.”

“I know where that is,” said Gus. “Let’s tell the Chief.”

“And what do we say when she asks how we found out?” questioned Henry. “I’m sure Alan doesn’t want everyone to know what he can do. No, we have to tell them that we suspect Shawn went after Lynch on his own. Just let me handle this.” He dialed his cell. “Karen. Yeah, I know it’s late. Shawn’s gone after Lynch. We’re at his apartment now. The time stamp from the Chinese restaurant says 7:27, so I’d say he left here about 8:30. Yes, I know, but it doesn’t take Shawn long to get into trouble.” He listened while the Chief probably went on a tirade about psychic consultants. “We’re on our way.”

*

“I can’t believe the little--” Lassiter stopped when he saw Henry’s glare. “—Spencer didn’t learn his lesson after being shot. Most people would wise up.”

“Shawn’s not most people,” commented Gus.

“Thank God for that.” Vick looked at the senior Spencer. “I’m sorry, Henry, just the idea of a world filled with Shawns would be too topsy-turvy for me.”

“I’d be the first to say that one Shawn is more than enough.”

“Any word from the men watching Lynch?” asked Alan.

“They followed him from his home to his office and he hasn’t moved for a couple of hours,” reported Jules.

“Did they have anyone covering the other exit to the parking lot?” asked Henry. No one answered. “C’mon, everyone knows there’s a second entrance.”

“O’Hara, have McNabb pull up the traffic cameras to see if Lynch went out the other way.”

“Yes, Chief.” She left the office.

“OK, so, you’re Lynch and you know the police are watching. What do you do?” asked Gus.

“Check to make sure your takings are safe,” said Lassiter. “Taking a circuitous route to get there.”

“Have an escape planned,” put in the Chief. “Most likely to a country without an extradition treaty.”

Alan remembered the airline tickets. “Maybe you should check airlines for places like Morocco, Maldives, and Madagascar. Cut him off in case he gets that far.”

“Very specific places,” said the Chief, a bit suspicious. 

“I’m not like Shawn. I just know where there is no extradition and figured he’d want to go somewhere warm and a place where he can live like a king with all that money.”

“Of course, if he’s desperate, he’ll kill anyone who knows too much—or he thinks knows too much.” Henry said, reminding them all that the man had already killed once.

Juliet returned with McNabb in tow.”The only car that left by the other exit was a silver Toyota Corolla.” She looked at Henry. “It was followed by a motorcycle.”

“Did you get a good look at the plates?”

“Yes, Chief,” said Buzz. “We’ve put out a BOLO on both vehicles.”

“Anything yet?”

“Henry, they’ve only just issued it,” said the Chief. “You should know we rarely get an immediate response.” She turned to Buzz. “Check the airlines for flights leaving within the next four hours. We might be able to get a timetable.”

“Yes, Chief.” The young officer left.

“Mr. Spencer,” started Juliet, “we know that Shawn can keep calm during this type of situation. He’ll be fine.”

Henry took a deep breath. “You’re right. He did handle himself well through that incident—aside from going off on his own.”

A typical backhanded Henry Spencer compliment. “Is there anything we can do to narrow down where Lynch could have gone?”

“And how do you expect us to do that?” demanded Lassiter.

“Perhaps by speculating on the best places one could hide based on the direction the car was going.” Alan was not going to raise his voice. The case had hit home for everyone in this office and emotions were running high. Cool heads needed to prevail if they were going to help Shawn.

Lassiter scoffed and the Chief glared at him. “We do need to do something to find him instead of waiting here doing nothing.”

“Okay, based on the direction he was going—if he doesn’t change—he’s heading for the warehouse district, a regular warren of bolt holes.”

“There is a section they’re converting,” said Jules. “If he were to enter with boxes, people would think he was moving in.”

“And that’s not exactly the neighborhood where people have housewarmings,” said Henry, “so he can stay anonymous.”

There was a knock on the doorframe and they all turned to see Buzz. “We’ve got him. We had a 242--”

Lassiter snatched the paper from the officer’s hand. “All right, let’s roll!” The Chief cleared her throat. “If that’s all right,” he added.

“You go ahead. I’ll put in a call to SWAT and follow.”

“SWAT? I can handle--”

“This is a potential hostage situation, Carlton. It’s procedure.”

“Yes, Chief.” He strode out past Buzz followed by Jules and Henry.

Alan paused at the doorway. “He’ll be fine.” Thing was, he didn’t know if he was saying that for the Chief’s benefit or his own.


	11. Chapter 11

Shawn had lost all feeling in his hands and feet and Lynch was not participating in the conversation. Shawn knew that if he kept Lynch talking, it would delay the shooting part of the evening. He just had to stay calm until the others found him--and he knew they would—like they did last time.

He ran through a number of escape scenarios and none of them ended well. Then he heard the sirens and the red and blue police lights began to flash like some patriotic ball.

“Lynch, we know you’re up there!” Lassiter had a very commanding way with the bullhorn. “Come out with your hands above your head with Mr. Spencer unharmed and we can end this peacefully without involving anyone else!”

Shawn saw Lynch stuff something into his pocket before grabbing his gun and tickets. He then came over to Shawn and began to untie him. “C’mon, Shawn, we’re leaving.”

He pushed Shawn out the loft door ahead of him then down the backstairs. On the first floor, they headed for the old freight entrance in the back. Lynch cracked open the door and Shawn saw the police watching and waiting. With his escape route gone, Lynch yanked Shawn by the arm and shoved him towards the front. It seemed he was going to face this head on.

“You know,” Shawn said as he was pushed along, “I don’t really make a good shield when it comes to Lassie. He really wouldn’t mind shooting me.”

“I’m hoping his police morality will override that.”

Shawn snorted. “A thieving lawyer talking morality, that’s new.” Lynch pressed the gun into his ribs. “Do that and you lose your shield.”

“Only if I kill you. Wounded will still work.”

At the front door, Lynch moved the gun to Shawn’s temple where it could be easily seen before opening the door.

After blinking in the bright light, Shawn could make out Gus, his dad, Jules, the Chief and Lassiter with the megaphone. Everyone was here for him. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Call them back, Lassiter! If I see any officer too close, Spencer gets it!”

With a quick look at the Chief, who nodded in confirmation, Lassiter called the officers back. Oh, you do care, Lassie! Lynch eased the pressure a little bit, but Shawn knew he was still tense. Chances were very slim that it would end in Lynch’s favor.

“There won’t be any negotiation here, Lynch! It’s late and I’m tired! I might as well just shoot you and save the taxpayers’ money!”

“In front of all these witnesses? You’d be suspended pending an investigation!” Shawn could hear the slight tremor in his voice.

“Lynch, this is Chief Karen Vick.” She must’ve taken the megaphone to free Lassie’s hands. “You know what police are like when one of their own is threatened. I believe Detective Lassiter completely justified in his actions and no charges would be filed.”

“If you shoot at me, you’ll hit Spencer!”

Shawn saw the Chief hold the bullhorn in front of Lassiter. “No. I. Won’t.”

There was a tense standoff as the two men waited to see what the other would do. Shawn knew this was beyond his control. Any attempts to talk his way out of it could make things worse. He could only wait and hope he didn’t end up with another hole in his body.

Shawn wasn’t sure how much time had passed—probably not much at all—before he felt Lynch’s grip tighten on his right wrist as it was held behind his back. Something must have spooked him in the shadows but he would never know what. He closed his eyes as he felt the muzzle press into his temple. A number of regrets went through his head; chief among them was not telling Jules how he really felt. _Gus will let her know._

He was knocked to the ground almost at the same the gun went off. The breath left his lungs but at least he was able to draw in more.

“Shawn, you okay?” It was Alan, who was lying on the ground beside him. “I didn’t make the concussion worse, did I?”

“No, I’m good. How did you know about the concussion? No, wait, don’t tell me, it’s a gift.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

Without his hostage, Lynch knew that he had lost any advantage and surrendered, hands on his head. Jules and Lassie, along with uniforms, approached him slowly.

“Are you all right?”Jules asked, giving him a quick glance.

“Nothing a bottle of Advil can’t handle.” Shawn watched as Lassie took great pleasure as he put the handcuffs on Lynch and read him his rights. “Oh, check his right pocket!” he called as Lynch was led away.

Gus and his dad ran up followed by the Chief. His dad knelt in front of him, studying his face. “Are you all right?”

Was that actual concern? “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine. Just a concussion. I’ve had plenty of those before.”

“If you say so.”

Ah, wait for it.

“How could you be so stupid as to go after a suspected murderer without telling anyone?!”

“Alan, that was just amazing!” gushed Gus quickly to change the subject. “It was like something out of a movie. You couldn’t have timed it better.”

“I could have, actually.”

“Dude, did you just take a bullet for me?” Shawn had never known anyone to do that before. “That is so cool!”

“Colonel, we’d better have a medic take a look at that,” said the Chief as Shawn and Gus helped him stand. “The same goes for you, Mr. Spencer. I believe I heard the word concussion. You can give your statement tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Chief.” Shawn waved as she walked away to check on her officers. “Okay, let’s go.”

“The ambulance is the other way, Shawn.” His dad put an arm about his shoulder and “guided” him in the right direction.


	12. Chapter 12

Alan moved his feet out of the way as Shawn stormed out of the kitchen and sat on the other end of the couch. A quick look into the other room showed a silently fuming Henry. “You’ve got to understand his position, Shawn. He’s concerned about you and probably doesn’t trust you to be alone. Can’t say I blame him.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine on the couch. I don’t want to put you out.”

Alan knew that Shawn for some reason didn’t want to be beholden to his father for any reason—probably because Henry would hold it over him at some point when he wanted a favor. He saw that Henry had moved closer and was leaning against the doorjamb behind them, listening. “There is another solution. You and I both sleep down here. Do you have a recliner or something else that can be used as a bed?”

“The best I can do is a sleeping bag and some cushions.”

“That’ll work.” He made to stand. “Just tell me where--”

Henry pushed him down. “I can get it. I’m not that feeble.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were. It’s just that it’s my idea and I thought I should do it.”

“You were just shot and you don’t need to exert yourself.” Henry left the room.

“You know, I think you’re the first house guest I’ve brought over that he’s actually taken a liking to.”

“But is it my cooking or the fact that I kept his only child from being shot?”

“Oh, the cooking, most definitely.” Shawn smiled.

Alan was glad to see Shawn back to his relaxed, self-deprecating self. “OK, you get the couch and I’ll take the floor.”

“I can’t let you do that after what you did. I’ll take the floor.”

“Shawn, you’re the one with the head injury and seriously, will you be able to sleep on a floor comfortably? I can get some sleep almost anywhere.”

“Fine.” He threw up his hands in surrender.

Henry returned with the sleeping bag. “You have to teach me how you win an argument with him without shouting.”

“Yes, please do.”

“It’s simple. I know Shawn really wanted the couch himself, but was trying to be polite by letting me have it. I just confronted him with the truth of the matter and that I was fine with it. No shouting required.”

Henry looked at the two of them and shook his head. “Good night.” He headed upstairs.

“Good night, Henry.”

“G’night, Dad.”

Alan got up from the couch and began to set up his “bed” with one hand. Along with the sleeping bag, Henry had brought a cushion from a deck chair. He subtly positioned it so he could keep an eye on Shawn and make sure he didn’t try to sneak out.

Shawn settled on the couch and handed Alan one of the pillows. “Not to sound petty after you got shot for me and all, but why did you do that for someone you barely know?”

“Because things aren’t supposed to happen that way.” Remembering how perceptive Shawn was, Alan tried to cover up his little gaff. “Why should the good guys get shot and the bad guys get away with it?” he added. Please leave it at that, Shawn.

“Have you ever had ‘what if’ moments?” Shawn asked. “Sometimes I wonder if I’d be a different person if my parents hadn’t divorced; if I’d be married with kids if I hadn’t chickened out on that date with Abigail.”

“That’s a pretty deep subject for the time of night.”

“Near-death experience can do that. And then you wonder if one little decision affects the world and time and…stuff.”

“I’ve a friend who’s into the who temporal physics thing with causality and paradoxes. He says that there are some things that can change and others that can’t.”

“So how do you tell the difference?” Shawn turned his head to look at him.

“Why would I need to know?” Alan asked, thankful the lights were out.

“’Cause you’re a time traveler.”

“Time travel? You know that’s all theoretical now.”

“Yeah, right now, but not the future where you’re from. It all adds up. You knew exactly where to find me both on the pier and the bank, you use the past tense and say that’s not how things happen, all that stuff you can do and that ID things that’s blank yet shows people what they expect to see.”

Alan knew the time for bluffing was gone. Shawn had already figured it all out. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“No. It all came together while getting checked out at the scene. Are you really allergic to all antibiotics?”

“Don’t want to find out. Last time I had some, I was out for two days.”

“So, are all diseases eradicated? Are you living in an Utopian society where robots do all the work?”

Alan chuckled. “It’s not _The Jetsons_ , I can tell you that. There’s still disease as there’s always something new out there.”

“No Utopia, then.”

“If it were, there’d be no need for a Military.”

“You’re really a colonel?” Shawn asked around a yawn.

“Yes. We can talk more tomorrow, but let’s try to grab some rest while we can, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

Alan smiled and soon drifted off himself.

*

Alan woke the next morning to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. He sat up and looked into the kitchen to see the two Spencers having an amicable conversation. He stood, slipped the sling over his head, and walked into the kitchen as he adjusted the material around his arm. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

“How’s the arm?” asked Henry.

“A little stiff, as to be expected.” He poured himself some coffee. He looked at Shawn. “You were sleeping well whenever I checked.” He sat at the table.

“You kept waking to check on me? You keep going up in my estimation, Colonel.”

“That was part of the deal, wasn’t it?” Alan closed his eyes as his sipped the coffee and let it slide down his throat. He opened his eyes to see Shawn and Henry staring at him. “Sorry, coffee like this is hard to come by where I’m from.”

Shawn looked at him knowingly but didn’t say anything.

“Right,” said Henry. “Once you finish and freshen up, we need to get down to the station. Karen is waiting on our statements.”

They entered the station about an hour later and were welcomed by applause. Shawn would have stayed to milk the adulation had not the Chief called them into the conference room.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for coming down this morning.” She sat at the end of the table. “How are you both feeling?”

“Not too bad,” answered Alan. “It’s just inconvenient.”

“Shawn?”

“Not as light-headed as last night. A good night’s sleep was definitely beneficial. I had forgotten how comfortable that couch was.”

“You slept on the couch? Why not a bed?”

“We had to compromise due to Shawn’s stubborn streak,” answered Henry. “It worked out pretty well.”

“Just like a sleepover.”

“Okay.” The Chief pulled out a pocket recorder and set it on the table. “I’d like to get your statements now. Shawn, if you’d go first.”

Alan listened as Shawn gave a detailed account of what happened which impressed him. Being in the Military, he knew the more succinct and clear a report, the better. It showed that even though he acted like a buffoon most of the time, Shawn was always paying attention. He also knew when to keep calm and still as proven when he had a gun to his head.

Henry was beaming with fatherly pride but would deny it if asked where Shawn could hear.

“Thank you, Shawn. Refreshingly precise.” The Chief turned to the older Spencer. “Henry, your turn.”

As Henry relayed his part in the adventure, Alan continued to watch Shawn. That’s why I’m here, after all. The younger Spencer seemed surprised when he heard what his father had done for him. [I don’t know why you’re surprised. I heard he’s done this before when you were missing.]

[Really, he told you about that?]

[Everyone brought it up, mainly because they were pissed that you went off alone again.]

“Colonel, do you have anything to add to Henry’s account?”

“Well, as we were together the whole time, my story isn’t any different.”

“You weren’t together the whole time,” said Shawn. “I mean, you were the only one who jumped in front of a bullet.”

Alan glared at him but Shawn just gave him an innocent look. Alan sighed. “I had a feeling that Lynch wasn’t going to go down quietly, leaving Shawn in the middle. I saw an opportunity and I took it.” He looked at the Chief. “I know I promised not to interfere in your investigation, but I couldn’t stand by and let Shawn get shot.”

The Chief smiled. “At that point, in my mind, the investigation was over. We had our criminal.” She stood and headed for the door and they followed. “I’ll just get these transcribed and then I’ll need your signatures.”

As she opened the door, everyone lingering outside immediately remembered work that needed their attention. Only Lassiter and Juliet remained.

“It’s good to see you’re both okay,” said Jules.

“A good night’s sleep helped,” replied Shawn.

“Colonel, I didn’t get to tell you when it happened, but that was one amazing rescue.”

“Thank you, Detective,” said Alan, keeping the formality. “I’m sure you would have done the same given the chance.”

“Well, of course,” he blustered.

“We’re going for coffees,” said Henry. “Care to join us?”

“Thank you, Mr. Spencer,” said Jules, “but we need to finish up paperwork from the case.”

“OK, your loss.” Henry went for the door.

“Call when the Chief needs us,” added Shawn as Alan pulled him away.


	13. Chapter 13

Shawn wondered if he had been a cat in a previous life. This basking in the sun was great. Then there was that whole nine-lives thing. Dad was telling Alan some embarrassing stories of his childhood and Shawn just let it wash over him. He was not going to argue with his dad over little stuff like that today.

“So, what made you save Shawn? Won’t that mess up the timelines or something?”

“Dad, what are you talking about?”

“Who trained you, kid? I saw the same stuff and came to my own conclusions.”

“Let’s just say that wasn’t the date on his obit,” Alan said as he savored his coffee.

“So I must do some amazing stuff if you actually came back to ‘observe’ me.”

“You know I can’t say anything. It would influence your actions.”

It was at that moment that Gus arrived and all talk of the future stopped. Instead, his dad moved the conversation to music and 60s bands.

“Dude, he’s talking like he was there and he can’t be much older than us,” Gus whispered.

“Maybe it’s a hobby. He’s British and you know that’s one of the few cultural exports the country’s known for. Well, that and period drama.”

“That is so shallow, Shawn. What about--”

Shawn put up his hand as his phone rang. “Sure, Chief. We’ll be right there.” He ended the call. “She’s ready.”

*

Shawn hesitated signing. “You’re certain he can’t wiggle out of this?”

“He held you at gunpoint in front of witnesses,” said the Chief.

“But the--”

“The evidence in his pocket that you pointed out ties him to the burglaries,” Juliet cut in.

“What about--”

Ballistics matched the gun he held on you to the bullet that killed Anne Wright.”

“Sorry you lost your mob arrest, Lassie.”

“Why all the questions, Shawn?” asked Gus. “Just sign.”

“I didn’t get to do my big reveal this time.” He looked at Alan. “It’s always awesome.They never know what hits them. It just feels so strange without it. I’m at a loose end.”

“I’ll give you some loose teeth if you don’t shut up and sign,” muttered Lassie. 

“Now is that any way to talk to a fellow detective?”

“How is it, Spencer, that you can be even more annoying after having a gun to your head?”

“It’s a gift,” he said as he signed with a flourish and could hear Alan’s stifled laugh.

“Believe me, I’ve tried to send it back,” explained his dad.

“Are you going to be staying in town now that the case is over, Alan?” asked Jules.

“I haven’t decided. If I do, I’ll check into a hotel so as not to take advantage of Henry’s hospitality.”

“I won’t mind. It’ll give me a chance to cook for you.”

“What about that job?” questioned Gus. “Will you be taking Shawn with you?”

“I think he’d fit in well and I’d take him to see the place if he wants to.”

A dozen eyes looked at him with varying degrees of intensity. Gus didn’t want to lose his best friend. Lassie wanted him to take the job just to get him out of his hair. _Who told him that buzz cut looked good?_ The Chief waited patiently while Jules looked at him with hope, practically wishing him to stay with her eyes. Alan just waited with a smile and Shawn wondered if he knew his decision. It was his dad’s look that decided him. His dad had pride in his eyes and knew that if Shawn went, it wouldn’t be because he was running away, but to something.

“Sure, why not?”


End file.
